


The Eyes of the Law

by LenciaAnn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, Military Draft, Oldest child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:20:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenciaAnn/pseuds/LenciaAnn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the eyes of the law, Armin, the oldest with his birthday in the fall when the leaves start changing color, is not a child when the draft begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eyes of the Law

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote while at work.

He was almost saved. In the weeks after the fall, food was scarce and work more so. But those with the experience, the education, and the ability were able to scrape by. Rebuilding their lives was a real hope, even as they ate soup containing a couple of old potatoes that had started to seed, and a handful of carrots. Surely, things would get better.

He was almost saved. The government, as much as it feared the overpopulation after the fall of Wall Maria, was not cruel. When the draft to take back the wall went up, exceptions could be made. Those with certain disabilities. Those of a certain age. Those with important skills or knowledge, like doctors, or weapons makers who were too valuable to send to die. Those responsible for small children.

He was almost saved.

But Armin was too old.

It’s not something that really matters, when everyone in a playgroup is born within a year or so of each other. The differences that made the most difference as toddlers- walking first, better hand-eye coordination, speech, and reasoning- even out with each passing year; the advantage of a couple months gives barely even recognizable after awhile. But in the eyes of the law, Armin, his Armin, the oldest of the orphaned fledglings that he takes under his protection, with his birthday in the fall when the leaves start changing to vibrant color, _Armin_ is not a child when the draft begins.

It had seemed like such a good idea, when the wall fell, to register their names and ages with the state. It meant help with food- ration cards- and a community. He’d never thought that it would be used against them, that they would try and take his grandson, until it was too late.

There’s no question when they get word delivered to their door by their frantic neighbor, that Armin will die if he goes to fight. Her husband has been called up too, and in the wake of her leave, the silence roars loud, broken only by Armin’s short little gasps for breath. Then, Mikasa drops her cup of water, shattering the rough pottery, and it breaks the spell. Eren rages through tears and fear, that it should be him! He’s got everything to prove! He’s lost so much to the titans. No one reminds Eren that he’s the youngest of their broken little family, with Mikasa older by almost two months.

Armin tries to be brave, to put on a smile, but his eyes are terrified, and his hands shake while he helps set their meager table. He does not eat, no matter the urging, and throws up water and bile outside after he thinks they all have gone to bed.

He was almost saved… He was too old, and there were children who needed him. But at what cost, that he should sacrifice his only living relative, who was still just a boy, so that he might live a little longer and cut short so promising, so bright a spark.

The civilian army only needed one. One who was old enough to fill out the spot allotted to their name, and one to stay with those the state deemed too young. They almost didn’t take him. He was too old to be of much use, and they all knew it. But the young man at the office was tired, and the circles under his eyes were dark. He knew what he was sending them to do. And what difference could one soldier do? It was a body, either way.

Armin screamed at him when he found out, more visibly upset at the draft switch than he’d been when they first got word. Eren yelled louder than them both, and Mikasa watched with dark solemn eyes that said ‘thank you,’ and ‘I’m sorry.’ She was a good girl. He knew that she’d take care of his boy, when he was gone.

Better to save his grandson, his little Armin whom he had named. He didn’t know what would happen to them, once he was gone. Would they be kicked out of their tight little room that they shared, once his small income was gone? Would someone see them, three friendless children, and try to take advantage of their poverty? Would his efforts be in vain, and disease would take one of his children before their time in a manner that no one could prevent?

It was a gamble. 

All his chips down on the lives of his children. 

That their future might be something better. 

 

That they might be saved.

 

~End

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted to my tumbr http://putyourright-armin.tumblr.com/ and ff.net account


End file.
